Ask Lovino
by i-am-one-with-nic-cage
Summary: You are The Reader, and you have been advised on an important task that you must fulfill for the Authoress. Ask Lovino questions, and make him shit his pants from embarrasment (which is what I really ought to title this). I suck at summaries, rated T for dirty mouthes.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Holy shit, I'm actually updating this junky story? Yes, I went back and edited stuff, which I'll probably do in the later chapters too, just so you know. Anyway, commence reading this shitty story if you wish, idk. (It's your lives to waste, don't say I didn't warn you about this trainwreck).

* * *

A golden light shines brightly from the heavens, causing you to look up from the glare of your laptop. You see an angelic face peering down at you, full of knowledge and wisdom. The great being opens its mouth to speak, and you hear daunting music coming from the light above. "..." Silence is heard from the figure at first, and you strain to hear what she is saying. Finally, you can make out most of what the shining light is trying to tell you.

"...Get your lazy ass off of the computer, you bum, we've got questions to answer."

Completely awestruck, you reach a hand out to the glowing figure, and are taken to a small room with the glowing being, who is no longer glowing. The figure looks at you in disdain, and sighs.

"What did I tell you, we have questions!"

Clapping her hands, the being motioned towards you, and you suddenly understand everything. The meaning of life, what the answer was to that question you missed on your last geometry test, where socks disappear to in the dryer. But none of that matters now as you look towards the Authoress.

"It is time," she says.

You nod with complete understanding and faith in her. Another figure is brought into the room, kicking and screaming. You and the Authoress exchange knowing glances, and tsk at the brunette haired boy standing in front of you. It is now time for you to fulfill your only duty in life. You are ready to start.

You may now begin asking questions.

* * *

A/N: (yes again you ignorant little shits)

I'm really very sorry. I am.

...Not as much as you might be, but still.

That was such utter bullshit, I don't even know what to say. Ask me questions please, for this beautiful little shit Romano, and he will answer them in his oh-so-pleasant way.

(Whoops, I self-inserted myself into another story again. *ironic yolo*)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys! Assuming anybody is still here from the last chapter. I never know what to write in these things, seriously, just read the shitty story.

* * *

You awake in the same room you arrived in earlier. After participating in your normal morning routine, you find a single piece of paper on your dresser. You know why it is there, and dutifully do your job. The letter is brought to the young boy. Your service had been done.

* * *

Romano wakes in a small room, and remembers the previous night. He's still not sure how the fuck he got here, or what he's supposed to do, but it seems pretty fucking suspicious to him. A moment later he wills his ass out of bed, and is greeted to the world with a person at his door. The person is holding a piece of paper addressed to him, so he figures he should take it. Sitting on his night stand is a laptop, and another letter which he immediately opens.

_Dear Romano,_

_You have been sent her to answer letters from some of your fans. Funny, I know. People actually like you, you little shit. Anyway, I've got important all-knowing shit to do, so answer the goddamn question and lets get this over with._

_regards,__Authoress._

You put the strange letter down. The authoress kind of seems like a bitch, but now's not the time for those kinds of things. You reach tentatively towards the other piece of paper, figuring this was one of the illusive "questions". You might as well get this shit over with. You begin reading the letter, starting with the words "ciao lovino," and working your way down the page. Oh great, this looks like a big nightmare. You turn on the laptop and begin to type.

* * *

**Ciao Lovino. I just wanted to let you know I love you more than any other nation in the world. Ok, Question time!**

**1: What do you like more? Tomatoes, or Spain, or Spain covered in tomatoes?**

**2: What would you do if you saw Ita-chan kissing Germany?**

**And 3: Will you marry me?**

* * *

You sigh in aggravation, pinching the bridge of your nose. These kinds of questions always irritated you, and now was not an exception. You sigh once more, and resume typing, your own answers in this time.**  
**

**Ciao back, you asshole. And it's because I'm better than all those other nations, idiota. Your questions are stupid, but I kind of have to answer them because I'm sort of being held hostage here, but whatever.**

You pause, taking in the sight of your own bold-ed letters staring back at you. Cracking your knuckles, and completely pissing off the Authoress by doing so, you take another shot at the questions. Starting with the first one, you slowly type in your response. Tsk, these idiots. They think they're fucking geniuses.

**What do I like more? Since my freedom of this dreary room isn't an option, I think I'll have to go with tomatoes. Spain's a huge dick, honestly, and I'm fairly positive the third one entitles Spain's nudity, which I'm not sure I really want to think about.**

Leaning back from the computer, you save what you've written, and cross the room. Some asshole has been knocking like a maniac the past twenty minutes. You'd yell, but you're fairly certain the room is sound proof. Plus, you really just don't give two fucks. Pulling open the door, the person stops mid-knock, and pulls you into a crushing hug. Shit, not him too. Making a sweeping gesture inside your humble abode, you made a snappy remark regarding his choice of clothing, but he merely shrugs you off. Your brother is such an air head sometimes. Sitting back on the bed, you explain what's going on, and he nods. You glance at the next question,and groan outwardly. Your brother doesn't seem to understand, but we've come to the conclusion of Feliciano's stupidity already.

**My idiot of a brother seemed slightly more shocked at your question than myself, so I doubt that'll happen anytime soon. But if that bastard touches my brother, he'll have a lot more to worry about than the fucking Nazi's.**

Immediately launching in the last question, you snicker. As if, stupid. Pausing, you think that may be a bit harsh.

**Marriage is out of the question. You haven't even taken me out on a first date yet. What kind of gentleman would you be to defile me in such a way?****  
**

Snickering lightly, you save your work once more, and close the laptop stretching once more, before yelling at your brother for being a dumbass. The question wasn't too bad, you think. Just, hopefully, there won't be many more...

* * *

A/N: Did you survive the chapter? I honestly have my own perception of Romano as a character than most people, so some (pretty much everyone whoops) people don't like the way I write him. Feedback? Or send me questions, guys, that's how this thing works.

...I'll give you cookies?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This piece of shit is literally 1200+ words, so enjoy this dribbling mess of horrible

* * *

You are awoken once againby a strange knocking at your door. The knocking brings more paper, and you are to do your duty. Walking carefully to the door, you are told to stay with the boy today. You are to fulfill your duty once again, and you shall do it well. If only to please the Authoress, you will ask questions. You know now that you are The Reader, and you are a very important and crucial part to the Story, and necessary to the Authoress. You stop on your walk and sigh. You have once again broken the fourth wall. The Authoress will be furious.

* * *

Romano is woken by banging on the wood of the door. His brother is lying beside him, still sleeping like a get up to open the door, and the same strange person is there, handing you more paper. You sigh, and mutter a few curses in Italian, and turn to close the door back. The person holds out their hand, and you realize now that they are not leaving. You throw open the door and curse again, louder, and grab your laptop. The person takes a seat beside you, and holds out their hand once more. You shake it, and they introduce themselves as The Reader. You sigh and nod, opening your laptop and turning it on. You type out the question, not reading it fully, and The Reader shakes their head. You begin reading the first question. Today looks asthough it might be shaping up to be a long day.

* * *

**Just letting you know, you are awesome. Awesome like Prussia.**

**Alright, onto my questions:**

**1) Who do you prefer: Spain, Belgium or Italy?**

**2) Why did you wear a dress when you were small?**

**3) Can I have a hug?**

* * *

**Do we really have to go into this? Spain was, in addition to a huge idiot, also a major pedophile. I swear, that kind of shit got him off.**

**Jumping into your next question, no, you may not have a hug, as that is physically impossible through the computer, smart-ass.**

You see that there is more paper addressed to you. You groan and wonder when this wil end. You will most likely be stuck here until the end of time. You open the next small sheet of notebook paper, adorned in small hearts, and nearly gag. You begin to type the slanted words. This is wtayour life has come to.

* * *

**Italee:**

**Hi Romano! :D I have seen a lot of pictures of you in the mafia, did that really happen? If it's true, than props for being BADASS! If not, still love you :3**

* * *

**Yeah, it did. Its gotten better, but kind of like gangs, its still a bit of an on-going thing. We try not to discuss it, so thanks for bringing that up, idiota. And whatever, I'm always a bad-ass. Check your priviledge. **

You snicker lightly at the last line. It's something Amelia [1] always says, and you'd laugh at her everytime she'd tell you that, but you figure you ought to thank her. You feel slightly sassy, and it's a compelling feeling.n You see more letters and groan in aggrivation. These people are all idiots.

* * *

**HetalianQueen:**

**Hi Lovi! I'm not going to ask to call you that cause I will no matter what :D**

**I have a few questions for you.**

**1.) May I have a hug? Please?**

**2.) Why do you hate Germany? And don't give me that 'He's a potato bastard' Sh*t. All he has ever done is look out for you bro. You should at least thank him for protecting Italy, or would that make too much sense?**

**3.) Did Spain think you were a girl when you were little? You were always in a pink dress...**

**4.) I know your going to hate me after this one but... do you have a crush on... Germany...? Don't hate me Q.Q... It's just that you're always so mean to him like a girl that likes a boy, but wont admit it. Again please don't hate me Lovi...**

**Those are all my questions! I hope you answer them! :D**

* * *

You groan again, figuring this was becoming some kind of habit for you. Everyone insisted on calling you that horrible nickname. You akready didn't liek this girl. She had moxy though, you had to give her that.

**If you insist on a bloody nose, do what you wish. And the questions are kind of un-escapable, considering I'm kind of being held here against my will. Have I mentioned that yet?**

**If I have to revisit the hug topic after this, you're nto going to be the only one with a bloody nose. And quiet your pleases, I'm not some kind of preschool teacher, capiche?**

These questions were gratign your nerves. At least they gave you something to do while you were stuck here. Feliciano stirred in his sleep, and sat up, looking at you with tired eyes. You greeted him with an angry goodmorning, and he yawned and smiled at The Reader. Funny, you almost forgot she was there.

**Why do I hate that macho douche? Well aside from the fact that I'm fairly sure he's planning to rape my little brother, he's a big dick. Have you seen the way he tries to take control of our meetings? He thinks he's so much better than everyone, that pompous asshole. And he doesn't need to protect feliciano. I can do a fine job of that myself, thank you very much.**

You reached for the water glass sitting on your bedside table. Oh, that bastard always worked you up. It's like he thinks Feliciano is his brother, instead of yours. You sure as hell don't want the albino for a brother. You almost feel sorry for him when you remember he has to deal with _that._ Almost.

**No, I'm pretty sure he was just an asshole. Next.**

Ugh, more of these questions. Spain's such a pedophile, you almost feel sorry for _yourself _when you think about it. Bastard.

**Yes, I'm madly in love with the great sack of potatoes. It's all I dream about. **

**... Do you hear that? That is the sound of beautiful sarcasm rolling off my tongue. No, I don't like him! And I'm not some kind of preschooler trying to impress the little blonde princess with the rich parents.**

**And once again, I kind of have absolutely no choice in the matter. I was _kidnapped._**

* * *

You save your work, and dismiss The Reader. You're so relieved to be done with those stupid questions, you almost forget that you missed dinner writing those idiotic questions.

goddamnit!

* * *

A/N: Hey guys. Oh look, another chapter.

I've come to the realization that there is no forth wall in this story. Someone (me) took a huge wrecking ball to it, and it's lying in shambles at our feet.

Tsk.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this piece of shit. Leave me reviews and lie straight through your teeth that this actually resembles something worth reading. Or questions, guys, we need questions. Seriously, that's the entire point of this story.


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